Don't Quit Yer Day Job
by nanniships
Summary: Another stab at writing, this time for Banna. A night out leads to a sing along and great embarrassment. Thanks to our Gelana for the prompt: something around singing/music and embarrassment. Hey...we can't all be Pavarotti :)


Don't Quit Yer Day Job

Anna Bates looked around at the happy crowd in the Grantham Arms and smiled and nodded at those she knew well. John Bates did his level best to ignore the happy crowd and kept his eyes on his wife, enjoying her enjoyment.

Although the Arms wouldn't have been his first choice for a rare evening out with Anna – too smokey, loud and crowded – the neighbor's daughter's kind offer to keep an eye on their ten month old son didn't give him the confidence to insist that they go any further afield.

In fact, he found himself to be extraordinarily conflicted about the whole thing. On the one hand, he admitted to being desperate to have some time with just him and Anna. On the other, William was still so young, and he spent so little time with him as it was, it was hard to leave him at all.

Anna had talked him into it – not a difficult task as he could deny her nothing it was in his power to do. She'd relayed the offer from their neighbor with such excitement that he didn't have the heart to suggest that they stay home together, forty feet away from their son in the next cottage, just in case they were needed.

Anna wanted a night out. So a night out is what they were having.

And it wasn't so bad, really. Being able to watch the dim, yellow light softly illuminate her throat when she threw back her head and laughed was worth the constant flow of well wishers and friendly folk wanting to know "Howsa lad? Gittin big, ent 'ee?" and telling her how well she was looking. Very few had much to say to him outside of polite pleasantries, which suited him, for the most part.

When there was a flurry of action at the far end of the bar, Anna pushed her plate to the side and reached across the table for his hand.

"Thank you for this, John."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he replied, smiling at her happiness. "Dinner at the Grantham Arms is hardly heroic."

"It is to me. You don't know how badly I-"

The flurry of excitement suddenly became a surge of noise as Mr. Fletcher pulled his accordion out of the case at his feet and Kenneth behind the bar began smacking two spoons on his thigh. With a mighty wheeze, the first strains of music rose over the chatter and immediately twenty voices launched unmelodically into "Pack Up Your Troubles in the Old Kit Bag."

"I didn't know there was going to be a sing song tonight!" Anna shouted at him, smiling at his wince.

"I didn't either," he replied, wondering if this would make it easier to convince Anna to slip out earlier than planned, maybe allowing them a little time alone at home.

"...and smile, smile, smile!" Anna sang enthusiastically. His hopes slipped a bit, as she seemed to be enjoying herself.

"C'mon, John! Sing!" she cajoled.

"Oh no! You know I don't sing."

"Don't be silly! Of course you do. I've heard you."

"You have not," he replied, raising his voice to be heard over the second verse, "because I don't sing."

"You sing to William."

John's brow knitted in a puzzled expression and he shook his head.

"Yes, you do," she asserted. "I've heard you when you go see to him in the night."

"That's not singing-"

"AND SMILE...SMILE...SMILE!" the song crescendoed and the crowd broke into applause and shouted requests for another song.

"-that's humming," he finished in a lower voice. "I just...rumble at him a bit and it puts him right back to sleep."

Anna shook her head like she didn't believe him and smiled broadly.

"I don't sing, Anna," he said firmly, recognizing that smile for the challenge that it was.

"-'ow about Nellie Dean?" someone shouted from the crowd.

"-'ow about her? You tell me!" Mr. Fletcher cracked as the crowd burst into laughter. But he brandished his accordion and the ragged chorus began again.

"You know this one, John!" Anna exclaimed, reaching across the table to give his hand a nudge.

"Just because I know it doesn't mean I'm singing it."

"Please? You sing the low part and I'll sing the high part."

"Anna, I can't sing any part..."

But she looked at him imploringly and began singing with the rest of the crowd, motioning for him to sing with the men's voices. He could feel his resolution puddling at his feet next the pint of beer that an excited bloke with a reedy tenor had spilled while waving his glass about. With an uncomfortable glance around, he cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

At first, only Anna's eyebrows went up at the croak that emerged. But as he attempted to match his voice to that of the other men, singing "you're my heart's desire Nellie Dean," two beats behind them, heads turned curiously to seek out the source of the discordance. When Anna stopped singing to look at him in amazement, and those singing nearby fell silent, he trailed off and glanced around sheepishly.

"Was 'at someone singin?" a young woman a few feet away from them asked her fellow.

"I dunow as I'd call it singin'," he replied, scratching his head as if trying to place the sound. "But I 'eard summat like it the last time we 'ad to shift Betty's calf round to bring 'im out."

Anna slapped her hand over her mouth, but the stream of giggles escaped anyway. John looked around nervously, but as the song had ended and more requests were flying through the pub, no one seemed to notice him. Although the careless bloke was glancing at him suspiciously as he claimed another pint.

"Why ever did you make that noise, John?" Anna asked when she caught her breath. "You've sung at church-"

"I've moved my lips at church. You must have heard Thomas singing on the other side of me."

"Silly begger! Didn't you sing when we had that talent show up at the house during the war?"

"Did you actually _hear_ me sing?"

"I thought I did..."

"Well, I didn't." At her skeptical look, he shrugged. "Ask His Lordship if you don't believe me. He's heard some of my attempts at singing in the Army and he'd have tossed me out on my ear if I'd tried to sing during the concert."

"So that was _really_ how you sing?" she asked, her voice rising in amazement.

"And that is why I _don't_ sing, my darling. I'm a valet, not a music hall performer."

The pub launched into "Swing me Higher, Obadiah!" and Anna smiled at John's disgruntled expression.

"Should we just go on home then?" she asked. "And maybe just spend some time there before we fetch Will?"

He nodded furiously and began digging in his pockets for his money clip. Leaving slightly more than their dinner had cost, he took her hand and they headed stealthily for the door.

They were almost there when the man with the tenor voice stopped singing long enough to open the door for them.

"Don't quit yer dayjob, Mate," he advised John with a wink and a nod.

"No fear of that," John muttered as he helped Anna on with her coat.

They both breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them, slightly muffling the joyful, raucous singing, serenading them as they headed home.


End file.
